


relinquish

by georgenapity (cleopatraslibrary)



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bondage, Kissing, Light BDSM, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rope Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:53:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29729310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleopatraslibrary/pseuds/georgenapity
Summary: There was something to be said about being a genius.Maybe it was conceited, a self-entitled train of thought. Most people wouldn’t call Dream a genius; they’d say he was an overthinker, or analytical.Only privately would Clay agree – Dream wasn’t a genius. There was a certain persona Dream had to encapsulate for his fans and feeding playfully into his own ego was entertaining enough, and to be expected now.Sometimes it was overwhelming.And during those times, he learned how to relinquish control, and how to free himself of his cumbersome thoughts.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 124





	relinquish

There was something to be said about being a genius. 

Maybe it was conceited, a self-entitled train of thought. Most people wouldn’t call Dream a genius; they’d say he was an overthinker, or analytical. If _Dream_ called himself a genius, he was self-absorbed and self-obsessed because there was _no way_ he was a genius. What did he do? Play Minecraft for a living? He was not a genius.

Only privately would Clay agree – Dream wasn’t a genius. There was a certain persona Dream had to encapsulate for his fans and feeding playfully into his own ego was entertaining enough, and to be expected now. 

Yet despite his own admittance, it didn’t mean his thoughts ceased their racing. It didn’t mean he didn’t make outlandish and accurate assumptions of people and was incorrect about them. It didn’t mean that he wasn’t constantly on edge, two steps ahead of most social interactions. The fact of the matter was that these _things_ all still happened and more; Clay’s thoughts were quick, his presumptions were true, and he practiced how he’d approach different subjects to people on a day-to-day basis. And while most of the time he understood where his head was rested on his shoulders, sometimes.

Sometimes it was overwhelming.

And during those times, he learned how to relinquish control, and how to free himself of his cumbersome thoughts.

-

His relationship with Nick wasn’t complicated, not in a way that ever felt burdensome or heavy. Quite the opposite, really. It was one of the few things Clay felt he didn’t _need_ to analyze, or pick apart, or try to unravel by the seams. Being with Nick felt as natural as breathing, something grounding and necessary, for Clay as a person.

They grew up together, on opposite ends of the country, falling in love with one another in the quiet whispers of midnight and loud, boisterous shoutings of the day. The seamless and slow yearning led to soft confessions, hurriedly muttered into their headsets with nerves and anticipation afoot. Their shared feelings were realized, and though they couldn’t kiss each other in that moment, it forever molded their relationship into what it was today.

The first time they saw each other in person was nerve-wracking and a little desperate; a single moment where they were flooded with relief and absolute joy and, “Oh, you actually _are_ real.” And then the next, reaching their hands out to grab one another, to pull each other closer. The contact was new and exhilarating and so dauntingly precious, Clay’s fingers shaking as he buried them in the fabric of Nick’s hoodie. He wrapped him into a bone-crushing hug that Nick returned tenfold, with his arms wrapped around Clay’s waist, a little too tight to be comfortable but unforgettably tangible. 

Then, the first kiss he felt from Nick, a soft peck on the edge of his jaw, his lips a little moist as he pressed it chastely against his skin.

Clay didn’t think as he relaxed into Nick’s hold, and together, they clung to each other for a long time.

-

Something Clay discovered quickly, when Nick moved in with him, was the power of his touch. From a gentle brush of their hands touching in the kitchen, to Nick splaying his fingers against his thighs as he spread Clay’s legs wide open when he pushed into him, Nick’s touch never failed to soothe Clay’s thoughts.

He never would have called himself lustful in the past; it wasn’t quite in his nature. However, there was something in Nick’s body that was intoxicating, hot and all-encompassing and addictive. When they pressed together, their skin slickened with sweat and fingers dug into flesh, there was an undeniable comfort that Clay always craved. 

Nick wasn’t just his lover; he was his friend, his _best_ friend, of so many years, and many more to come. He was his rock, his steppingstone, his support, and, as Clay panted heavily into Nick’s neck, riding out his orgasm in a slow rut against his hip, he knew there was no one else in the world he’d rather be with. And he felt in the way Nick mumbled sweet, incoherent nothings, that he felt the same way.

-

Clay knew, objectively, he was fairly easy to live with. He regularly cleaned, kept up with the laundry, made sure to pack up the dishwasher. He wasn’t that hard to please, either. 

The real issue, when it came down to it, was his own mind. 

He had a lot of thoughts, opinions, ideas; a constant whirlwind of ideas, coalescing and expanding in his mind. Sometimes, his mind moved too fast for him to understand his train of thought. He simply jumped from one conclusion to the next, each stop seemingly more outlandish, creative, than the last, until he could backtrack and get himself sorted, writing down his plans in a small journal his mom gave him. 

It could be overwhelming. It certainly felt that way to him.

Sometimes Clay could get so lost in his own thoughts, it felt strange to reacquaint himself with the real world. With furniture, with textures, medicine, food, anything. 

But without fail, a soft touch and a gentle coaxing from Nick could bring him back to himself. His racing thoughts wouldn’t stop, but they’d slow down, just a little bit. Just long enough for him to bring himself back to Earth, to take care of himself, and ground himself in reality.

-

Other times, like now, he needed more.

-

Submission was a beautiful act, Clay thought. 

( _Was it a beautiful act? Should he feel shame? Weak? Does that mean he should demean those who submitted to him? Why would he do that? Why…_ )

It was something he would never do freely, with anyone, in and under any circumstance. He pushed and pulled in every scenario. He couldn’t just _not_ put up a fight. It wasn’t in his nature to do so. 

( _Raised to be the best, raised to conform, raised to…_ ) 

Of course, Nick was the outlier.

But, even with him, Clay couldn’t do it often. Not without a bark-with-no-bite battle.

( _Was he too much?_ )

So, Nick had to have known, when he saw Clay on his knees at the foot of their bed, with his neck bared and only in his boxer briefs, what he needed. How could he not?

The door clicked quietly as Nick pushed it shut, a tense quiet infiltrating the room. Through heavy lidded eyes, Clay watched Nick toe off his socks at the hamper, throwing them into the bin before padding over to him. His head was tilted to the side, a silent question, which Clay quickly nodded in response to.

With careful fingers, Nick trailed over Clay’s cheek, sending cascading tingles down his face and arms, goosebumps rising along his skin. His hand lowered, tucking beneath Clay’s chin and gently, Nick pushed up, forcing Clay to look up at him. 

His voice was quiet, warm. Sweet. “Hey there. How’re you doin’, babe?”

Clay blinked slowly, before cracking a slow, lazy smile. “Alright. You?”

“Alright.” He took a step closer to him and laid his other hand on his cheek. Clay breathed out, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned into the touch. “What do you have in store for us today?” 

With a small sigh, Clay opened his eyes and leaned back a little bit, before reaching behind him and grabbing two coiled ropes. They were thick and coarse, but sturdy, nicely made. He presented them to Nick, widening his eyes innocently as Nick’s eyebrows raised.

“Yeah? What do you want me to do with those?” he asked. He was toying with him, laying the perfect trap for him to roll his eyes, scoff, ask, “What do _you_ think?” 

Most of the time, he’d take the bait, force Nick to put him in his place. Instead, he said, “I want you to tie my wrists to the headboard while you fuck me.”

This time, it was Nick who was blinking slowly as he looked down at Clay, his mouth parting as his eyes glazed slightly. His mouth widened into a wolfish grin and he said, “I can do that. Get up and get on the bed. Lay on your back.”

Clay pushed himself up and handed Nick the rope, before climbing onto the bed. He laid down and slipped his hand into his boxer briefs, cupping his cock as he watched Nick strip. His eyes trailed over the muscles in his back, in his arms, flexing as he pulled his t-shirt off over his head. He threw it haphazardly towards the hamper, before unzipping his jeans. Clay let out a small sigh as he started to tug himself off, his hand dry, but still a nice pressure on his hardening cock. 

“Hey! None of that, pretty,” Nick ordered, his voice firm in the most pleasant of ways. Still, an order was an order, and Clay pouted slightly as he pulled his hand out of his boxer briefs, laying it flat against the bed. His voice dropped. “Good boy, Clay. I’m glad you can obey, for like, once in your life.”

Clay shivered at his tone, his eyes unwittingly closing before a warm weight settled between his thighs. He looked up, and there was Nick, a shit-eating grin spread across his face as he hovered above him, only a few mere inches away. His gaze flickered down to his lips and back and Nick’s grin widened. His jeans were rough against Clay’s legs as Nick bared down on him and Clay breathed out, smiling lightly at the pressure.

“Hey baby,” Nick said cheerfully. Clay bit his lip to suppress a smile and, immediately, Nick butted in, saying, “Uh uh ah! Only _I_ get to bite that,” before leaning down and kissing him.

Despite his reprimand, Nick didn’t, either. His tongue traced along his bottom lip and Clay opened his mouth, letting him take control. His mouth was warm, and moved tenderly, slowly, against his; a tantalizing gentleness that Clay could never ask aloud for, yet was a necessity Nick always knew he craved.

He crawled up further Clay’s body, kneeling over his torso. The denim of his jeans scratched against Clay’s bare skin delectably. Nick deepened the kiss, bringing his hands up to cradle his cheeks and Clay moaned a quiet, “Please,” into his mouth.

Nick pulled away, his lips shiny with spittle as he smiled down at him. He ran his fingers through Clay’s hair, tugging it lightly, and he moaned again, his eyes going heavy.

“You want me to tie you up now?” Nick asked, his mouth a hairbreadth away from his ear, his hot breath tickling his skin. Clay nodded quickly and his eyes popped open when Nick grabbed his chin, forcefully stopping the movement. He kissed the side of his face, once, twice. Then, “I need a verbal response from you, pretty.”

He didn’t hesitate. “ _Yes_ , yes, please, do it, _please_ , Nick.”

The denim pressed further into his skin as Nick shuddered above him and his hands pulled away completely from his face. Clay opened his eyes to watch Nick reach next to him, picking up the rope. 

“Give me your hand,” he demanded softly, and Clay offered it, presenting his wrist to him. His fingers wrapped around it in a solid grip as he pushed Clay’s hand above his head, towards the headboard. He leaned over Clay and, with nimble fingers, circled the rope around his wrist, pulling his hand off to tie the knot. 

Nick’s face was one of pure concentration, his eyes focused entirely on his task, with his tongue poking between his teeth as he worked. He was still flushed a lovely red and Clay couldn’t help but run his other hand up his side, dragging his nails against his soft flesh. Nick shivered again and squeezed his thighs together in retaliation, “Behave,” coming quick out of his mouth. Clay smirked, small and secretive, before obediently letting his arm drop against the mattress. He closed his eyes as his other arm was forced higher up, the rope suddenly pulled taut as it was tied to the headboard. 

“How’s it feel?” Nick asked. 

Clay tugged on it lightly, but he barely had any wiggle room. He pulled harder; it stayed secure. “Tight,” he replied.

“Good. Give me your other hand,” he said, and goosebumps raised along Clay’s sides. He had the inexplicable urge to call him, ‘sir,’ so he did.

“Yes, sir,” he murmured lightly, and Nick swallowed, seemingly unable to stop himself from leaning down and kissing Clay. His lips moved softly, gently against his as he pushed his arm up, high over his head like the other one. His hands made quick work of the second knot, the rough grains digging nicely into his wrist, and Clay whined as he tried arching into Nick to get closer to him. 

“No wiggle room?” Nick said, a tad fiendish in his grin.

He shook his head, his hair tickling his biceps. “No.”

“Nice.” He gave him a quick peck on his forehead, before pushing himself up, kneeling next to Clay’s legs. He ran his hands down his thighs, faintly tracing indistinguishable patterns throughout his leg hair. Clay pushed his head back into the pillow, exhaling sharply as his hands trailed higher, hooking onto the elastic waistband of his briefs.

He shuddered as Nick pulled them down, his cock hitting his stomach, sticky with pre-cum, and flushed. He carelessly helped kick off his briefs without thought and jolted when Nick pushed his thighs down against the bed with his hands, his palms hot and heavy against him.

“Behave, pretty,” he commanded softly, and Clay melted against the sheets, relaxing in his bounds and letting the tension flow out of him. He breathed in deeply, and exhaled, and Nick squeezed his thighs. “Good boy,” he said lavishly. Clay whimpered. “Don’t move now, okay?” he suggested, before leaning down and taking Clay’s cock into his mouth. 

He let out a loud moan, forcibly pressing his legs further into the mattress as Nick sucked on the head, bobbing his head in short, even mouthfuls. He was so warm and tight around him as he hollowed his cheeks and Clay shook with the effort not to thrust in farther, deeper, harder down his throat. He pulled against the restraints and let out a small whimper, desperate for more than what Nick was giving him.

“Please, please, Nick,” he whined. “Give me _more_.”

Nick hummed, gurgling wetly on his cock, the vibrations sending Clay into a shivering fit. His breaths came out faster, his chest heaving unevenly. Nick sucked hard on the head and Clay keened, barely stopping his hips from jerking up. “Getting kinda greedy, huh?” Nick taunted as he pulled off. Clay stared, enraptured by his red lips, slick with drool and pre-cum. He leaned down further and, looking at Clay from beneath his lashes, licked a long stripe from the base of his cock, along the underside of a vein, up to the head, fluttering his tongue. He groaned, twitching and panting heavily, tucking his nose into the side of his arm.

Nick swatted his leg, right above his knee, reprimanding and fast. “Look at me.”

Clay hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes, blinking them slowly open. His mind was foggy in a haze of lust and want. Nick caught his gaze and his breath caught in his throat at the soft look he was giving him. That wasn’t what he was expecting.

“Color?” Nick asked.

_He was always so gentle._

“Green,” Clay replied.

Nick smiled, small and private, before it widened into something more familiar, and sinister. Clay’s cock twitched. “Nice,” he repeated, before shifting, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. In a quick swoop, he pulled off his jeans and boxers, kicking them onto the floor before twisting around and crawling back in between Clay’s legs. 

He reached over to the side table and grabbed the bottle of lube Clay had set there before, dropping it next to his calf. He leaned up, kneeling above him with his back straight, and Clay squirmed; he wanted to get his hands on him.

Nick knew it, too; Clay could tell by the small, smug smile spread across his face. His fingers lightly grazed his own sides, gently squeezing the flesh as they moved upwards, red marks raising against his pale skin. Nick let out a tiny sigh as he pinched his nipples, flicking at the hardened nubs. Nick's eyes closed briefly as his head tilted to the side and Clay was entranced. He _needed_ to touch him.

He pulled against the ropes to no avail, the bonds roughly scratching his skin as he pulled them taut. He'd have marks in the morning, he thought with fervor, if he didn't have them already.

"Sir, please, I need you. _Please_. Please."

His cock throbbed against his stomach as Nick reached down and cupped his own hard prick by the base, the head leaking deliciously. He gave a few slow pumps, flicking the slit, and Clay's mouth watered. He wanted anything Nick would give him.

“Please, Nick,” Clay begged, and _finally_ , he took mercy on him. He let go of himself, his cock curving against his stomach, and reached down, picking up the lube.

With the bottle held in between his fingers, Nick grasped Clay's sides and bodily lifted up his hips, inching them closer together and settling his ass on top of his thighs, almost flushed together. Clay planted his feet flat on the bed as he pushed himself up on his shoulders, Nick grabbing a pillow and putting it underneath him. 

Then, the bottle lid clicked open.

Clay's arms shook in anticipation as Nick wet his fingers with the lube. He shuddered, pulling against his bounds fruitlessly when Nick, soft as a feather, brushed a lone finger against his perineum, trailing it further to touch his taint. Clay inhaled sharply, his eyes fluttering shut as Nick circled his hole, coating it in lube, before pushing his finger in.

Agonizingly slow, Nick fucked his finger knuckle deep into Clay. With every pull and tug, he crooked it, _barely_ grazing his prostate; it was enough, however, to make him flush, and heat him up, from the inside out. Soon enough, Nick slipped in a second finger. He spread them carefully, scissoring and stretching Clay out, and he couldn't contain the low rumble of moan, deep in his chest, as Nick pressed incessantly against his prostate. Pleasure licked up his sides and Clay panted unevenly, swallowing the spittle in his mouth. 

Nick put in a third finger.

Hot breaths tickled his neck and Clay cracked open his eyes, catching sight of Nick's sweat-curling hair dip down as he laid open mouth kisses across his collar bones and along the crook of his neck. He'd propped himself up over him as his other hand kept up its' leisure pace, fucking Clay with his fingers. He bit down just as he pressed against his prostate, and Clay couldn't control the stuttered, "Ni-ck!" escaping him. Nick's soft laugh danced across his skin and Clay couldn't control the delirious smile that spread across his face in return.

He tensed his thighs around Nick's waist, pushing his knees together to get him closer. They both inhaled as their cocks brushed together, but Nick continued to kiss his skin, down his chest. Clay wanted to touch him so bad.

"Come on, Nick. Fuck me?" he asked, his breath hitching in his throat as Nick looked up at him again, his tongue against his heated skin.

"Mmm, maybe in a few," he said, before sucking one of Clay's nipples into his mouth. 

He let out a high whine as his back arched, fucking himself further onto his fingers. Nick sucked hard on the sensitive nub, licking and biting along the areola without reprieve. Then, when he was satisfied with his handiwork on one, he did the same to the other, all while keeping an even rhythm of scissoring his fingers into Clay. He was drenched in sweat, on the cusp of cumming, and desperate to let go.

Only then did Nick pause his ministrations.

He placed a sloppy kiss on his sternum before pushing himself back up to tower over Clay, pulling his fingers out. Clay canted his hips, whining at the emptiness, before Nick shushed him. He uncapped the lube against and coated his thick length, and Clay's breath quickened as Nick pumped his cock a few times, jacking himself off with his head tilted back.

"Nick," Clay murmured softly, a quiet hymn with heavy intent hanging in the air, and Nick didn't hesitate. He lined himself up, pressing the head of his cock against his entrance, and pushed in.

They moaned together, as Nick slowly sheathed himself into Clay. He leaned down over him and, with a gentle headiness, connected their lips, kissing him as he thrust all the way inside. Clay gasped into his mouth as his cock rubbed against Nick’s stomach. It was _so much_ , all-encompassing and overwhelming, and Clay closed his eyes against the onslaught of sensations. 

Then, he started to move. Nick rotated his hips, shifting each thrust until Clay let out a shaky groan. Stars danced across his vision as he hit his prostate, whitening out around the edges. Nick pulled away, his hot breaths tickling until his chin, just long enough to say, “Gotcha,” before latching onto his neck and biting down, fucking him harder and deeper.

Caught up in his ecstasy, Clay relinquished control, only chanting quiet, "Nick,"'s under his breath as he pounded into him, hot and perfect and everything he ever wanted. 

Nick reached between them and started to stroke him, jerking him off fast. Clay bucked up into his hand, pulling against the restraints as his back arched off the bed. “I’m– I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum, _please–”_

Nick kissed his skin, before saying in between pants, “C’mon, you’re allowed, cum for me, babe. C’mon, c’mon.”

Clay shuddered at his words and after a few more strokes, tightened his legs around his hips as he came in his hand, keening loudly as Nick kept up his pace, fucking him through it. He clenched hard around Nick, twitching and breathing hard just as Nick pushed himself up and gripped his sides. After a few more hard, sloppy thrusts, he threw back his head and came, filling him up.

Clay’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he moaned, his ears buzzing as he pulled against the rope. His vision went dark, and when Clay came to, Nick had already untied his wrists and was wiping him down with a warm cloth.

He blinked slowly at him and Nick looked over, smiling at him. “Hey. You good?”

Clay simply looked at him, before rolling his shoulders, wincing at the soreness. “‘S okay,” he murmured regardless, “definitely not as bad as that one time in your dorm.”

Nick laughed softly as he threw the cloth across the room into the hamper, before sliding under the covers with him. Clay immediately grabbed onto him, pulling him into his arms and tucking his head onto his shoulder. “Thank you,” he said quietly, his eyes already beginning to droop.

“Always, Clay.”

**Author's Note:**

> hi! i hope you all enjoyed. if you did, please leave a comment - they simply make my day
> 
> if you're so inclined, my twitter is [ @georgenapity](https://twitter.com/georgenapity)! come say hi <3
> 
> with love y'all, tommy


End file.
